


What It Means

by pandapop



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brienne struggling with feelings, F/M, Flowers are here because why not, Fluff, Her feelings be rebellious, Jaime Lannister Needs a Hug, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23681509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pandapop/pseuds/pandapop
Summary: So that's what it was. Just a spur of the moment. A passing fancy. Her heart had a fling with the idea of Jaime Lannister and finished it off quickly as soon as she came back to her senses.Until it happened again.Or, 5 times Brienne may or may not have accidentally told Jaime she loves him without him noticing and 1 time it's the other way around
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 9
Kudos: 69





	What It Means

**Author's Note:**

> First Braime fic! I have no idea what this is but I hope ya'll enjoy it nonetheless. Updates will be every 2 to 3 days.

It was 2 months after Jaime moved in with her in her two-bedroom apartment. 

Having been friends for a little over a year — having hit it off after a gradual development of genuine friendship and care for one another after months of hating each other’s guts — they’d settled into a nice and comforting routine pretty quickly.

Jaime would wake up first and go for a run while Brienne slept in until 9 am. By then Jaime would’ve been back and already cooked breakfast, chilling in Brienne’s old but comfy couch because since he’d quit his job at his father’s company, he’d started working as a bartender at Tyrion’s nightclub doing ten to two am shifts while Brienne worked at the shop from ten to five. When he gets home on the rare chance that Brienne doesn’t have any work to do and is still awake watching The Long Night on Netflix, they hang out a little and just talk while drinking whatever alcoholic beverage Jaime somehow stole from his brother’s catalog that night. 

The same repeats the next day, and the day after that, and so on. Their day-offs were either spent sleeping in, with each other, or with the Starks. It really is strange how neither of them just noticed the domesticity of it all, or at least Brienne didn’t. Not until that morning.

By the time she’d waltzed into the living room Jaime was already lounging in her couch and eating her cereal as usual. He glanced at her, in her blue unicorn patterned pajamas and definitely sporting bedhead, while he looked beautiful and golden and still would even if he didn’t look clearly fresh out of a shower. As usual.

Jaime grinned stupidly, a spoon wedged in his mouth. “Vwernch.”

“Good morning to you too.” Brienne squinted away from his face—too bright, too early for this brightness—and towards the island instead where sure enough, breakfast was already laid out on a plate just waiting for her. Brienne walked to it and stared at the weirdly satisfying display of bacon and eggs as well as two neatly done stacks of pancakes, with Brienne’s exact preferred blend of coffee sitting in a mug next to the whole ensemble.

On a normal day, Brienne wouldn’t question it. She just dug in and got ready for work and bid Jaime goodbye. Except this time, for the first time in two months, Brienne realized something.

“Jaime.”

Said man turns to her once again from the couch, spoon gone and speech proper and eyes still beautiful and green and sharp.

“Yeah?”

“Aren’t you sleepy?” Brienne asked, Jaime blinking as a confused response for her to elaborate. “I mean, I know you get up pretty early to run but you’re not—you know you don’t really need to—why are you up? This early? I mean it’s not _that_ early but it’s not good for your body clock to be up this early is it? You should be sleeping in. You can do your runs before you go to work, so why are you…well, awake?”  
Jaime just stared at her for a bit, before scratching the back of his head and putting his bowl down on the coffee table. “Uh, why are you telling me this now?”

Brienne shrugged, hoping it distracts him from the nervous tilt in her voice. “Just curious.”

Jaime thinks about it for a moment, then turns to look at her directly, perching his arms up on the back of the couch with a sheepish look on his face. “I just wanted you to eat.”

“…what?”

“You weren’t eating breakfast. Which if you didn’t know is actually the most important meal of the day? You know I used to bring you a sandwich at the shop every morning because I knew you were only running on coffee right? When I moved in I just, you know, thought I’d get you to properly eat breakfast from now on. Plus, runs are always better in the morning anyway. You could join me if you like?”

Brienne stared at him. “So the only reason you’re up this early everyday is—”

“To cook you breakfast, yes.” A pause. “And isn’t it ironic that we’re roommates now but see each other less often than we used to? Cause you know…I actually enjoy your company wench.” He smiled. “Even if it’s just for an hour or two every morning.”

There’s a ringing in Brienne’s ears that’s getting louder the longer she fixated on Jaime’s face, and when it finally stops, the first thought that comes out is:

  
_Why?_ Brienne asked in her head.

 _WHY?_ She asked even louder.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous, just sitting there like what he’d said was the most casual thing in the world and totally not a level of domesticity that implicated something definitely not _casual_ and _he’s just sitting there_ , looking calm and curious and disgustingly handsome and just all in all insufferable. 

_Why in seven hells do you care?_ She expected herself to ask like any normal person would.

Instead, she says: “I love you.”

Jaime went still. Brienne froze.

_WHAT THE FUCK DID SHE JUST SAY?_

She was going to bury herself alive in a crypt somewhere, maybe punch a hole in the ground big enough for her to fit in and die in and forget everything and Jaime—at least until the man himself blinked, raised a hand to his ear and said “I’m sorry, what?”

Brienne blinked back, breath on hold. “What?”

“No what was that? I didn’t hear you.” Jaime could be a good liar when he wanted to be, but there was nothing on his face that gave hint to him acknowledging the three words of perpetual doom that blasted itself right out of Brienne’s subconscious – and she knew better than to question it this time.

Brienne could feel the blood rushing to cover her body in every bloody variation of reds and she sputtered out a “I said thank you! THANK YOU dude! That’s very tho-thoughtful. _Dude_.” She raised a thumbs up then stuffed a slice of pancake in her mouth. “Vyou’tr thr verst!”

Whatever good Brienne had done in her life lately was enough for the gods to just make Jaime shrug with a smug “I know, _dude_.” before turning back to whatever show he was watching and letting Brienne breathe out and have a moment of peace. 

She said it. Did she say it? Maybe she just imagined it, Jaime didn’t hear her say it after all.

“I love you.” She said, much quieter, staring at the back of Jaime’s golden head. “Holy _shit_.”

Jaime, the god of good timing, glanced back at her once again. “You alright? Too much syrup?”

 _I said it._ Brienne thought, swallowing hard. _And I meant it._

  
She doesn’t know which of the two terrified her more.


End file.
